fruit a fallen, inc

I would like to walk on a magnificent pathway leading to the ultimate height of human experience and existence. I would see the shorelines of golden waters reflecting all that is good in the human spirit. I would see reflections in gold of happy children playing and activity in good things all over as far as the eye could see. The smell of barbeque in the air so dense I would have to wave the smoke from my smiling face in order to catch the ball that will eventually find its way into my warm hands. No worries in that place. Nothing to shut me down and make me feel less than I am. In that place, there is only good thoughts; the thoughts that create fond memories we humans hold so dear to our hearts. My magnificent pathway has no desire, no pain, no guilt, and no sadness. It has only fruit that goes splat every time it falls from the tree.

multiplicity

Planetary forces that align against the spirit are indeed the spirits of disgruntled souls. They have places to go as the doors to the universe are wide open for them but because of their nature in stubbornness they prefer to be forever bitter for the sake of spreading it around to as many souls as possible while they still are bound by Earthly blood and body. The influences of the darker spirits are all over our social world. There is no categorization for them under any one religious context. This is beyond the scope of man and politics. It is something carried from one generation to the next through various forms of text both in silence and in rage, rumor and inuendo. This is the formulation of self through years of socialization in the cycle, the human cycle, the one that includes the unhappy souls that walk among us all and influence us in a multitude of ways. 98.2

film clips

Entitled for more entitled for less, we charge forth in times of duress. We bypass suspicion to mask the flavor of discontent by favoring a more off hands approach to things. It is in this way we regress to stay the same and alter not our life chances. We look to progress yet we fascinate ourselves in snappy justifications. We yield to the exterior while keeping tight the lid on ourselves.
Nobody can see the real me as sometimes he has nowhere to be, not even on the inside can you see. Are you like me? I sometimes search to feel. Are you like me? I sometimes search to sleep. Are you like me? I sometimes fail in my endeavors. Are you like me? I like to wear leather. Are you like me? 98.2